


Too Much Crazy

by DocMarten2525



Series: Nights at the Rail [2]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Implied Smut, Mild canon divergence, One Night Stands, Prostitution, Sexual Tension, Torch music, When Magnolia sings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 05:57:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7965106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DocMarten2525/pseuds/DocMarten2525
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The music is hot and so is Magnolia the night a stranger at the Third Rail catches her eye. But she's playing a dangerous game, and one of these nights she might run into more trouble than she's prepared to handle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Much Crazy

He was a little guy. Short, not much over five feet, and slender. He came in kind of tentative, his eyes darting back and forth as he stood just at the door, and when he finally stepped through it was quick and sudden, like a diver going into water that he knows is cold. 

We were just finishing up our last set and I let my fingers find their own way across the piano keys as I watched him slip through the crowd to the bar. He was young; not much more than a kid, I figured, although the .44 on his hip rode like it belonged there. It was a big piece, too. Kid must have had more meat on him than he looked to carry something that heavy. From the way his jacket hung there had to be more iron under his arm. Right arm, same side as the holster, which made him ambidextrous or very sneaky. Maybe both. I couldn’t see a knife, but didn’t doubt there was one. 

Some others were sizing him up, too. Polly, who flat-backs it out of a room at the Rex, gave him a quick appraisal then looked away. She’d been in and out three times already tonight and was looking kind of tired. Two clowns in raider tattoos gave him the same kind of look, but for different reasons. Their eyes lingered on the .44, then they, too, looked away. They’d been eyeing up a fat trader in the corner earlier on and I figured they were just waiting for him to leave. Half a dozen off-duty security guys on the couches by the door were also watching the newcomer. One of them got up all casual-like and wandered up to the bar while another drifted off toward the door. Reporting back to the Mayor, I’d guess. Hancock liked to know who came in and out of Goodneighbour. 

The last song was just ending. “…. I do the boys a favour / with all my manual labour / It’s good to be a good, good, good, good neighbour…” Magnolia was crooning, wrapping herself around the microphone like it was a lover. She had the torch turned up high, and the way she was getting into it meant someone was going to get lucky tonight. 

Me and boys play backup for her, and it’s a sweet gig. Six nights a week perched behind the nicest backside in the Commonwealth, with a cold beer and a clean bed waiting at the end of it. The music doesn’t change much from night to night, but that’s okay. We put our souls into every song, because that’s what you do. But Magnolia’s the star of the show. When the lights go down, it’s Magnolia they want to see, and she never fails to put out. 

I could see the kid’s eyes light on her as he passed by, slide off, then come back again. Close up, he looked older. There was something wild in his eyes, like he’d seen too much crazy and hadn’t decided yet how he felt about it. I’ve seen jet addicts with that look, and it never ends well. 

Magnolia’s head turned to follow him, and I could tell she was singing the outro to him directly. She does that sometimes, and I could see by the way his eyes widened he’d got the message. There were two empty stools at the bar now – a couple of farmers in doing some trading who’d got up to see if Polly had a group rate – and he slid into one of them. Magnolia caught Charlie’s eye behind the bar and gave him a litte nod. I knew the other stool would still be empty until she got there.

One of these days, she’s going to get herself killed.

The song finally ended and the audience burst into applause. Magnolia finished with her lips so close to the mic she was almost kissing it.

“It’s always a good time in Goodneighbour, isn’t it?” she purred, the fingers of one hand wrapped loosely around the mic stand, stroking it slowly up and down. “And I hope you’re having one, too. That’s it for us tonight, but we’ll see you all back here real soon.” She turned slightly to give a wave to where we were, on the raised platform in the shadows behind the stage. “Now how about a big hand for my boys?” 

The light man fired up our spot. Blinking in the sudden brightness we did our usual thing while the crowd cheered (or booed, as the case may be, but it was all good) -- Jimmy blowing a soulful glissando on his sax, Father Bob firing off a rimshot, Big Apple Sundae, the supermutant, all dignified up in his black suit and bow tie, giving a deep bow from beside his stand-up bass, and me hammering out a long set of descending fifths on the Steinway. 

“Good night, everyone,” Magnolia said into the microphone and the lights went off, leaving us in darkness.

Afterwards she came over to chat like she always does. “Nice job tonight, boys. You were hot.”

“You too, Miss Magnolia,” Big Apple said in that big, deep rumble of his, always so proper and formal. 

Father Bob offered her a cigarette and she smoked with us a few minutes, chatting about nothing while one of the girls brought beer. Which as beer goes, was rat piss. But it was cold rat piss and we were all sweating after the last set. After she was done, she gave us a smile and took her drink across the bar. She was working her way slowly, taking sort of a roundabout route and stopping to chat along the way. But there was no doubt about where she was going. The kid knew it, too, knew she was teasing him. He was following her with his eyes the whole time.

“Price of a beer says she takes him home,” Father Bob said, nudging me. He was watching her ass intently as she moved. He always does. Or her tits. I think he thinks he might get some off Magnolia some night, but if so, he’s setting himself up for disappointment. She doesn’t sleep with the hired help.

“No bet,” I said. “Look.” 

She was inviting herself to a seat on the empty stool. Charlie set her up again, and the kid, too. She took a sip, letting him enjoy her profile for a moment before turning to face him. She leaned in close as he said something, then laughed, touched his arm, let her hand rest there. Her eyes were drilling straight into his. 

The only bet worth making was how long it would take before they walked out together. 

I sat back, sipping at my beer, watching the room. Charlie sent over another round and I listened to the boys chatter while they drank. Tomorrow was our off day and I could see they were looking to make a night of it. The Sundae was thinking of hoofing it across the river. He had a woman up there somewhere. Jimmy had some weed and him and Father Bob were looking to find some girls and get a party going. They wanted me to come but I begged off. In the end, the three of them decided to stick together, which was just as well since the supermutant would make sure the others didn’t get too stupid.

Magnolia was still chatting up the newcomer. They were farther apart now, not touching, but smiling at each other. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they looked intimate, like they’d made some kind of connection. The stranger’s face had lost its hardness and he looked even younger now, almost girlish but a bit more human. Magnolia’s face was flushed and she had six fulll shot glasses lined up in front of her which she was methodically pounding back. But she was laughing between drinks and I got the idea there’d been a bet and she’d lost.

Just then one of the farmers from before stepped up behind her. Polly must have turned them down, or maybe she’d only taken the one because I couldn’t see her in the room anymore. Either way, the man was drunk and reeling as he reached around and grabbed a handful of boob.

“Hey, baby…. How’s about a little of that manual labour for a good, good neighbour, hey?” He was slurring bad, and he squeezed her breast hard as he tried to drag her off the stool. 

In a flash the stranger was off his seat and around, the big .44 in his hand. The farmer backpedaled, taking a swing with one of his meaty fists. He was a big boy, and if he’d landed it would have sent the smaller man flying. But size doesn’t matter much when the other guy’s faster than you, and the stranger simply leaned back to let it slide past then stepped in and took a handful of hair, yanking the farmer’s head back, jabbing his muzzle into the soft part just below the point of his jaw and thumbing the hammer back. He had that jet-crazy thing back again, written all over his face now instead of just his eyes, and I could see a bead of sweat dripping down one temple as he worked his jaw, staring up into the farmer’s face.

The big man gulped, his Adam’s apple moving up and down as he swallowed. The room had got very quiet. No one pulls a gun in the Rail. No one. But no one touches Magnolia, either. 

The moment lengthened. A confused expression crossed the stranger’s face, like he wasn’t really sure what he was doing there. But it ran away and the crazy was back again, and for a moment the two fought it out across his face. The security guys were all on their feet, weapons out, and I could see the bouncer, heading over with a sap in his hand and a mean look in his eye. Charlie had a sawed-off from somewhere and was using it to cover the crowd. I put my drink down and slid the shotgun from the bracket under the piano keyboard and very quietly slipped the safety off.

The moment stretched, humming like a guitar string pulled too tight.

“That’s enough, now,” Magnolia said into the silence. “Everyone settle down. Ham – “ she held out a hand to the bouncer. “Put it away – we’re good here.” Ham stopped short, his sap already raised, and a little sigh went through the room. The stranger, though, kept his death grip on the farmer, who other than to swallow again remained rigidly immobile. 

Magnolia smiled softly. “That’s enough,” she repeated. “If we killed every drunk who tried to grab my tits, poor Charlie would run out of customers.” Which wasn’t true, of course, but someone laughed anyway, then the stranger laughed, too, except it was high and kind of shrill, and his eyes were still wild. But the moment of tension had passed. There was a general relaxation among the crowd, an easing of weapons all the way back into holsters, the returning of safeties to the “on” position. Magnolia laid her hand on the stranger’s arm and he shuddered visibly, then slowly, slowly, opened his hand, releasing the farmer. He gave the big man a shove, pushing him at Ham. The farmer allowed himself to be hauled away without protest. I guess he was just happy to be alive, although I suspected he might soon wish otherwise. 

Excitement over, the room returned to normal. Magnolia guided the stranger back to his stool. He was still pretty wound up, and she was talking urgently to him, her eyes holding his, her hand gently stroking his face. It reminded me of watching a caravan guard gentle a horse that had spooked and I wondered, not for the first time, what Magnolia’s story was. Whatever she was doing, it was working. I slipped the shotgun back into its bracket and wiped the sweat off my palms. 

I waved the bar girl over. “I’ll have another one here. Whiskey, this time.”

By the time the drink arrived, Magnolia and the stranger were gone. Polly was back again by then, sitting at the bar where Magnolia had been, and I wandered over to buy her a drink. She looked done in, and I had enough in my pocket to pay for the rest of her night. That way we’d each get what we needed – a little tension relief for me followed by a good night’s sleep for her. It would be a win for both of us.


End file.
